We Are One
by narnian-starkid
Summary: 1987: Caught in a sudden downpour while on his way back from a mission in one of London's suburbs, Jack spots a lonely little boy in a deserted park in desperate need of a kind word. One-shot, inspired by the song of the same name from The Lion King 2.


_(1987)_

Jack shuddered as he stepped out into the downpour, already regretting not bringing his umbrella with him. Not that it would be much help, he thought bitterly, given that it had been torn to pieces during a battle with a particularly aggressive alien a few days prior. Still, what was a bit of rain going to do to him, kill him? He could deal with being wet.

Not that the weather in London that day was any different than usual, he mused, ducking his head to avoid the worst of the pelting water droplets, thinking longingly of his snug hotel room back in the city, with its warm sheets, warm fire, warm bellboy next to him – Jack stopped himself: wishing was getting him nowhere, no matter how pleasing it was.

Torchwood had sent him down to London to investigate some strange happenings in one of the many densely populated suburbs. So far, his search had turned up nothing but a strange wood-like object, which had been vibrating in his pocket ever since he had 'relieved' its previous owner of it.

The rain was coming down even harder now, apparently intending to drown him standing up. Jack sincerely hoped not: drowning was not nice to come back from – he swore that he still had water in his lungs from the last time. Still, he should probably get to some sort of shelter, and with that goal in mind, he set off towards an empty park about a hundred metres from where he stood: one of those covered barbeque areas sounded fantastic at that moment.

Hurrying across the puddled street, Jack was relieved to be undercover at last. Folding the collar of his greatcoat up against the sudden wind that was starting to pick up, he settled onto a bench to wait out the rain.

He took the object out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands, a puzzled expression on his face. For the life of him (and that had to count for something right?), he couldn't figure out what the device was, nor what it was supposed to do. All it was doing was vibrating, nothing else. Not for the first time, he wished that the Doctor was with him, if only to help work out what the thing was. For the time being, however, Jack would have to settle with going back to Cardiff with the device and handing it over to Davis – their technician.

Jack couldn't help but smirk as he thought of the older-looking man, always buried in some gadget or other: he honestly reminded Jack a lot of the Doctor. Against his will, Jack's mind wandered back to that impossible, Northern-accented alien with a fondness of leather jackets.

Quashing the familiar feeling of resentment at his abandonment, Jack wondered where the Doctor was now; were he and Rose getting around alright? Jack scoffed, of course they were – you didn't get to be nine-hundred odd without working out how to look after yourself. Still, you had to wonder sometimes with the Doctor. He reminded Jack so much of a child that is was sometimes impossible to believe he was as old as he claimed.

Jack had been concentrating so hard on his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that the rain had stopped. Glancing up at the slowly brightening sky, he smiled faintly as the birds slowly began singing, adding noise to the oddly quiet London suburban street. Maybe because it was so strangely quiet, Jack never knew, but his ears pricked as he heard another sound; the sound of someone crying.

Turning his head in the direction of the noise, Jack saw that it was a young child. Sitting alone under a large tree, soaking wet and sobbing as though their heart was broken. Jack felt his own heart ache and, deciding that his return to the motel could wait for the moment, walked over to him.

He had to be about six or seven years old, Jack reckoned; skinny and bony – almost tiny. Hair that would have been a lightish brown had it not been dripping wet clung to the small boy's pale, freckled face. His clothes were dirty and hung off his lanky frame like bits of old skin. His head was resting on his thin knees and his shoulders were shaking with the force of his sobs. Jack took a step closer, trying his best not to startle him.

"Hey there" Jack greeted kindly.

The boy started, head whipping around to find the source of the voice, and when wide, brown eyes came to rest on Jack, he tensed, curling his knees further into his chest, averting his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright" Jack apologised, reaching out to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. To Jack's surprise, the boy didn't try to pull away, although he still didn't raise his head.

Jack sighed and sat down on the driest patch of dirt he could find next to the child and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. The silence was bordering on awkward, but not quite there, so Jack decided to open up some conversation.

"Why are you out here all by yourself?" he asked gently, tilting his gaze down to the boy's face.

"Mum and I had a fight. I ran away: I really hate it when we fight" the boy replied quietly, voice muffled against his knees.

"Why do you fight?" Jack asked, frowning slightly.

The boy hesitated, and when he answered, his voice was tremulous – as if holding back more tears.

"My dad died a few months ago, and she hates me for being his son: I look too much like him" he mumbled, so quiet that Jack almost didn't catch it.

Jack honestly didn't know what to say, instead he reached out and pulled the trembling boy into his chest, wrapping him in the folds of his greatcoat. The boy stiffened initially before relaxing into the warmth of the coat and the comfort of Jack's arms. His trembling increased as his cries returned.

They sat like that for a few minutes, neither saying a word. Finally, when the boy's sobs had subsided, Jack handed him a hanky from his pocket, which he took gratefully and used it to clean his dirty, tear and rain-streaked face.

"You know, life is full of things we don't understand: so many things that don't go how you plan. But you know what? One day, things will look up" Jack murmured, surprised by the wisdom in his own words – it sounded like something that the Doctor would have said. That thought made him smile with faint pride.

The boy was quiet, seemingly pondering the strange, wise words that had just been spoken. When he glanced back up at Jack, his dark eyes held a new understanding. Jack smiled at him.

"Come on, you should be getting home" Jack stood and offered his hand to the boy, who hesitated.

"I don't want to go back, my mum doesn't want me there" Jack's heart broke a little further at the tremble that was creeping back into the boy's voice.

"Trust me" Jack assured him softly, offering him a warm smile. The boy returned it with a toothy – if perhaps not entirely genuine – smile of his own and took Jack's hand.

The two walked in silence until they came to a particularly run-down block of flats about five minutes from the park. The boy turned to Jack, the tiniest bit of sadness in his eyes.

"This is it. This is where I live" he said, seemingly reluctant to let go of Jack's hand.

Jack nodded wordlessly, and squeezed the boy's hand before letting it go.

"Go on" he said, trying to sound encouraging, offering a smile in the boy's direction.

The boy, seemingly mustering up his courage, took a deep breath and started up the steps to the front door. As Jack turned to go, a voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry, mister, but I never got your name."

Jack paused before turning back to face the boy – whose hand still hovered over the door handle, an inquisitive expression on his face. He smiled.

"Call me Jack" he replied.

The boy smiled back, and this time it seemed genuine.

"My name's Owen. Owen Harper."

And somehow, Jack knew – even then – that he would never forget that little boy.

And now, many years later, when he sat alone in his office at Torchwood's Cardiff Hub, watching the team's newest member – a stranger, yet familiar to him at the same time – walk through the cog wheel for the first time, gazing around him in total awe, not quite able to hide the pain of his recent loss, he smiled fondly as he stood and went into the main Hub to welcome their new team-mate.

Holding out his hand, as he had done all those years ago, Jack smiled his signature grin and regarded his new colleague with a fond expression that only the other man opposite him would understand.

"Welcome to Torchwood, Dr Owen Harper."

 _Fin_


End file.
